Saving Hope
by ArwenLalaith
Summary: After an accident, Derek is left trapped between life and death - unable to return to life, unable to die - and at the crux of it all, is Emily and the ocean of history between them. He's determined not to let her down a second time, no matter what it takes.
1. Chapter 1

**AN: This fic is based on a Canadian show called Saving Hope. If you've seen it, don't give anything away in the reviews. If you haven't seen it, I strongly suggest you check it out. It has lesbians who don't die.**

 **This fic is dedicated to rmpcmfan who has graciously taken the time to review every chapter of my last two fics and I appreciate it beyond words. Thank you so much.**

* * *

"Hello?"

Derek glanced around the apartment and, finding it empty, took several cautious steps across the room as if afraid of disturbing his surroundings.

Glancing out the window, he could see the London Eye in the distance and, beyond that, the River Thames and the expanse of the city beyond. His heart was somewhere in his throat. _London_?

It just didn't make sense. Things always made sense and if they didn't, then he reasoned through them until they did. But the more he reasoned through it, the less able he was to pinpoint the series of events that led up this moment.

The UnSub had led them on a high-speed car chase, of that much he was sure. Reid and Rossi had been in pursuit while he and Hotch blocked off his route with their SUV. Things became less clear after that. He'd ended up pinned between the two vehicles and then…he wasn't exactly sure. People talked at him and he'd insisted he didn't need to go to the hospital. He assumed he'd blacked out after that.

That explained none of what was happening to him right now.

"Hello?" he called out again, desperation edging into his voice this time. The confusion was starting to get the better of him, giving way to rising panic. "Anyone?"

The apartment was furnished like something a realtor might show you and it didn't look like anyone had ever so much as sat down on the sofa or made a meal in the kitchen. It wasn't a home. It was vaguely familiar in a way he couldn't place.

His introspection was interrupted by a black streak dashing down the hallway, startling him. Just as suddenly, the movement stopped and two green eyes stared suspiciously at him.

"Sergio?" Derek said, taking a few slow steps towards the cat. Sergio immediately arched his back and hissed at him, baring his claws. "Sergio, it's just me, relax..." The cat had never been the biggest fan of his, but he'd never behaved like this before.

It took a couple seconds longer for the pieces to click into place in his brain.

"Emily?" he breathed once they did. ' _Okay, I must have some sort of brain trauma,'_ he thought to himself. He was clearly having some sort of massive hallucination. "Emily, it's me! I think I need help..."

No response.

"Emily, please..." Hysteria was rising in his chest. Hallucination or not, if he could just _see_ her, somehow everything would be okay, he was sure.

Then, he heard something. A key turning in a lock somewhere. Instantly, Sergio forgot him and leapt onto the table beside the door, awaiting her attention.

As soon as the door closed behind her, Emily seemed to collapse back against it, all the tension bleeding out of her until there was nothing left but an empty shell. She closed her eyes for a long moment as if she were making a wish, but when she opened them, nothing had changed.

Sergio mewed for her attention and a soft smile crossed her lips. "Hey, Serg," she greeted, scratching him between his ears. Satisfied, the cat leapt down again and trotted off.

"Boy, am I glad to see you, Princess," Derek said, crossing the room to gather her in a hug. She'd make everything okay somehow.

But she didn't seem to hear him or even feel his embrace. In fact, she didn't even glance his way.

"Emily?" He spoke a little louder this time. No matter how upset she might've been with him, she would never just ignore him like that... When he got no response a second time, he got frustrated. "What the _hell_ is going on?"

He was startled by a familiar deep chuckle from somewhere behind him.


	2. Chapter 2

Clyde Easter stood just inside Emily's office, waiting for her to notice his presence. She was deep in thought, the glow from her laptop screen making her already pale face seem to glow in the dark office as she stared at the screen, thoughts obviously a million miles away.

"Something wrong?" he asked, stepping into the office, alerting her to his presence when she failed to notice on her own.

"No more than usual," she muttered darkly. She was chewing one nail, her brows knit, apparently consternated.

"I see you read the file I sent you," he said sarcastically.

"Which one?" she asked, with a gesture to her overflowing inbox, easily ignoring his tone.

He raised his brows, unimpressed. He picked up the file stamped with a bright red 'URGENT' and waved it in front of her face. "This one."

"Right," she said, snatching it away from him. She pursed her lips as she gave the first page a cursory glance. "I haven't had the chance to go through it yet. I've been a little preoccupied – there's a lot going on around here, in case you hadn't noticed."

"So, I take it that means you heard about your friend and his unfortunate accident?"

Emily felt her blood turn to ice. She swivelled her chair to look him in the eye. "Excuse me?" she asked sharply, tone deadly calm when she felt anything but.

"You _hadn't_ heard?" he said, frowning. "My bad." He sounded entirely unapologetic – smug, almost – in spite of his words.

"What accident?"

"No, it's not my place, clearly they hadn't told you for a reason." He held his hands up as if trying to distance himself from her anger.

"I swear to God, Clyde!" Her hands were trembling from a combination of fear and anger and, not wanting to let him see, she gripped the arms of her chair until her knuckles turned white. "Tell me what happened!" she demanded.

He couldn't help the small smirk, reading her emotions as easily as a book. "You haven't changed a bit, Emily. It's that hot-headed impulsiveness that always got you into trouble..." He shook his head slowly, an undisguised note of condescension in his voice.

"If you don't tell me, I swear, I will get on a plane and fly back to the States if I have to..." she threatened. If someone on the team needed her, nothing on Earth was going to stop her, including Clyde Easter.

"Now, now…it doesn't have to come to that."

"Clyde! For fuck's sake!"

He sighed. "One of my contacts in Quantico mentioned it. Agent Morgan – that's his name, right?" He tapped the picture frame sitting on her desk. "He got hit by a car and he's been in a coma for..." He checked his watch. "...about a week now."

"What?" she rasped, sounding as if all the air had been forced from her lungs.

"Now, if you wouldn't mind, could you please get to the file I gave you? It's quite urgent." He tapped the manila folder and dropped it in her lap. "Emily, I need you to focus on this."

"Focus?" she snapped, incredulous, "After...after _that_?"

"He is thousands of miles away, on a different continent, and _you_ have a job to do. Unless that job is neurology, focus on the files, please." With that, he turned on his heel and left her office.

With trembling hands, she reached for the picture frame he'd indicated. It was possibly her favourite picture of the two of them – he had his arm wrapped around her shoulders holding her close and, while she was looking at the camera, smiling brilliantly, he was staring at her, eyes soft and tender, like she was the only thing in the whole world that existed in that moment.

She didn't realize she was crying until one tear hit the glass, shattering into as many pieces as her heart.

* * *

"That prick," Derek muttered darkly. He stood at the door of Emily's office, glaring at Clyde's retreating back, unable to believe he'd just suggested his near-death experience shouldn't matter to his best friend. "I knew there was a reason why I hated his smug British face from the moment I saw it." He balled his hands into fists, useless though they were in his current state.

"Interesting," Ian said quietly from where he stood over Emily's shoulder, studying the photograph in her hand.

"Hmm?" Derek hummed, still staring after Clyde with red hot anger.

Ian just shook his head, smirking mysteriously. "Nothing. Simply wondering when this jealousy started... Was it before or after she abandoned you for him?"

"Jealous? Of that asshole?" Derek scoffed. "I wouldn't be jealous of him if he were the last guy on Earth. And she didn't _abandon_ me for him – he offered her a _job_ , that's all."

Ian chuckled. "Funny. Because it would seem that of the three of us, you're the only one that hasn't seen _her_ naked." Derek shot him a downright bitter glare. Ian held his hands up in a 'don't shoot the messenger' gesture. "You've hardly made a secret of your desire."

For several moments, he seemed to consider a bitter comeback, then thought better of it and instead said nothing. He sighed wearily. "So, what happens now?"

"Now that she knows?" He shrugged. "Time will tell, I suppose. But even if she were to rush to your bedside, that won't be enough. She could beg and plead and pray and you still won't return to the physical plane until you can overcome whatever block is keeping you here."

"What does that mean? What 'block'?" he asked desperately.

"That's something you need to figure out for yourself. I'm here for her, not to guide you to the other side."

"Screw the other side! I'm not ready to leave!" he said with intensity, eyes blazing. Then, quieter, "I'm not ready to leave _her_..."


	3. Chapter 3

"Clyde's right," Emily told herself resolutely, and clicked the little red 'x' in the corner of the screen. She wiped her palms on her jeans and stood up from the couch; she made it to the threshold of the kitchen before stopping and turning around. "Although..."

Sergio's green eyes followed her from his place curled up on the back of the couch.

"He would come if it were me, wouldn't he?" She reopened the web page she'd closed just moments before.

" _In a heartbeat," Derek replied without hesitation. Sergio turned to stare intensely at him,_ _his earlier annoyance with him having faded into subtle disinterest. The cat crinkled his nose in distaste, but didn't hiss at him the way he had initially. He didn't know how or why the cat could see and hear him when no one else could, only that it seemed a cruel trick of the universe._

Emily, of course, hadn't heard him. She never heard him, no matter how loudly he shouted, how urgently he begged. Her fingers hovered over the keys of her laptop in indecision. "But there's nothing I could do for him, even if I were there," she said quietly, "Clyde was right, I should stay here where I can be useful to someone."

" _No, don't listen to him!" Derek said, louder than before. "I need you!"_

Sergio seemed to decide he was no longer interested and yawned lazily and returned to licking his paws, bored.

"You're not a very helpful conversationalist, Serg," she spoke to the cat as he hopped down to curl up next to the warm laptop. She sighed heavily. "What should I do?" she asked aloud. "A good friend would go. We're still friends, no matter what happened...he said so."

 _Ian turned to look at Derek, brow raised in an intrigued and slightly superior expression, but Derek refused to meet his eye. He had no intention of getting into a discussion of everything that had transpired between them, especially with the likes of Ian Doyle, guardian 'angel' or not._

"Why didn't they call me? Wouldn't they at least let me know that he was still alive?" She sunk her teeth into her bottom lip. "Maybe he told them not to call me. I'm not sure I'd want him coming here if it were me."

 _"Emily..." he whispered, somewhere between desperation and heart break._

She leaned back, letting out a frustrated breath between her teeth, fingers catching in her dishevelled hair. "Why!?" she demanded of the room at large. Of course, she knew exactly when and why things had gotten so strained, she just wished there were a better answer. An answer that wasn't her fault.

She turned and pulled a framed photo off the shelf behind her. "You see that, Serg?" she asked the sleeping black ball. "Looks like we were happy, doesn't it? It's easy to fake happiness for a split second. He told me things would be the same, but he lied. They never were the same after what happened. Going to London was supposed to fix things, but maybe he took that to mean we were giving up."

She stood up, chewing at her nails. "It's a bad idea for me to be there. There's too much baggage between us, especially for someone recovering from serious brain trauma." She paced a little, shaking her head. "I'm not going to go, that's the right decision. He'll understand."

 _Derek stared after her, admittedly a little stunned at her decision, as she disappeared down the hall where she could be heard digging through her closet._

" _Well," Ian said, smirk evident in his voice, "Seems you're a better actor than I thought."_

" _It's none of your damn business!" Derek snapped._

" _My, my…have I touched a nerve?" Derek opened his mouth to retort, but Ian continued before he had the chance. "Let's see if I can guess, shall we? You couldn't resist her 'womanly charms' – she's very good at turning it on, isn't she? – and you somehow managed to lure her into your bed. You don't really seem like her type, but I guess there's no accounting for taste._

" _Then, like a fool, you fell for her; don't feel too ashamed, it's happened to the best of us. She strung you along and you believed there was something more between you. Then, she broke your heart because that's who she is, she's a heart breaker."_

" _You're completely off base," Derek said threateningly, glaring at him. "You're wrong. What we had was real, she_ did _love me." He gestured towards the picture frame she'd left on the coffee table. "Look at that! You think she'd keep a picture of us together if our relationship meant nothing to her!?"_

 _Ian raised a brow as he glanced at it. "I remember that...the wedding. Right before she picked up and left the country without looking back. She held you in her arms and danced with you, told you she loved you, and she still left. Didn't you wonder how she could do that if you meant as much as she said you did? How she could leave you behind and move on with her life?"_

" _Stop it!" Derek yelled. "Just stop it! You have no idea what you're talking about!" But Ian just smiled._

Emily suddenly dashed back into the room and dropped a duffel bag onto the floor and pulled an ornate wooden box from the bookcase where it had been hidden behind some books. Her fingers ran over the carvings on top, preventing either of them from reading it, before she gently added it to the suitcase.

"I have to see him," she said, eyes wide and intense. "There's too much left between us to let it end this way."


	4. Chapter 4

"Excuse me, Miss," Emily addressed the nurse at the desk of the neurology ward. She plastered on the polite smile she used when dealing with the public when she didn't really want to be there. "I'm here to see a coma patient: Derek Morgan. Could you please show me to his room?" She'd come straight from the airport, even though it was nearing ten at night and visiting hours were long over. She hadn't slept in nearly two days and the physical and emotional exhaustion was written clear as day across her face.

"Name please?" the nurse asked, bored, without so much as looking up from her computer. She snapped her gum lackadaisically.

"Emily Prentiss," she supplied. " _Director_ Emily Prentiss. I'm his..." She paused for a second, trying to decide on the best descriptor of their relationship. "...friend," she finished lamely, wishing there were another word, a _better_ word. Friend felt so small, so inadequate to describe everything that had passed between them. And even if there was nothing left, they'd still been so much more...

There was a small chiming when the nurse located his patient file, causing her to pause and purse her lips. "I'm sorry, ma'am, but we've been instructed not to allow you in the room without supervision."

Emily's face morphed into a look that she usually reserved for UnSubs and her mother.

" _Excuse me_?" she hissed dangerously. "Who exactly do you think you are? I'm an agent with _Interpol_ – what right do you have to deny me access to my...friend?"

The nurse looked frightened, and rightly so. She stammered a few times, trying to form a response and failing in the face of Emily's bitter anger.

"It was _my_ order," came a voice from down the hall, saving the nurse from responding.

 _Derek's heart lifted, then fell as joy, then confusion flooded through him._ " _Mama?"_ _he_ _whispered,_ _brows darting up his forehead._ _He couldn't understand why his mother wouldn't want Emily to see him; she was the only person they'd told about their relationship and she knew how important she still was to him._ _He shook his head slowly, sadly. "What have you done?"_

Emily turned on her heel and stared Fran Morgan down with a gaze that would make most people tremble in fear. But Fran Morgan was made of stronger stuff than most people. "I must've heard you wrong," Emily said, managing to keep her tone surprisingly civil, "I thought I heard you say _you_ are the one forbidding me from seeing Derek. But that can't be right."

"I'm sorry, dear, but I had to make an uncomfortable decision based on what I thought was best for my son. I'm sure you understand, I know you only want what's best for him as well."

 _Derek could tell that Emily was quickly losing patience. He knew she genuinely liked and respected his mother, but if there was one thing she couldn't handle, it was someone telling her she couldn't do something, especially if that thing was being there for someone she cared about. That bold stubborn streak she'd never quite grown out of was one of the things he liked best about her. But then, he liked everything about her..._

"Clearly, you don't know your son half as well as you think," Emily snapped, temper flaring out of her control. "Because I _guarantee_ that he would want me in there. Who are you to deny me – no, deny _him_ that?"

"I'm his mother." She said it calmly, but he could hear her temper wearing thin.

"You and I both know that he genuinely cared about me – I was his best friend! We were partners for five years, we dated for almost a year, for God's sake! I'd say that kind of thing matters..."

 _Ian shot him a surprised and almost impressed look, but he didn't have the time to evade his prying right now when his mother might be ruining any chance he had of getting Emily back, any chance he had of getting back into his body and waking up._

"Yes, you were...right before you picked up everything and moved halfway across the world," Fran retorted. "You broke his heart!"

" _Oh, no,"_ _Derek_ _whispered. Fran was driving Emily into dangerous territory and it was only a matter of time before Emily pushed back..._ _He could see on her face that she was on the verge of falling apart._

"Do _not_ try and act like that was entirely my fault! He had _every_ opportunity to tell me not to go, but he didn't!" Emily's hands were balled up into fists at her sides and she was very nearly trembling with anger. "And you know what? He was not the only one who was hurt when we broke up! So, before you start throwing things back at me that you understand _nothing_ about...don't!"

"Be that as it may," Fran said, managing very well to keep her temper in check as well, "This is my decision and I will not have you being the first face he sees upon waking up, getting his hopes up that there's a chance for reconciliation when you and I both know that as soon as he's awake, you'll turn tail and run right back to London with barely even a goodbye. You should consider yourself lucky I'm willing to let you see him at all."

Emily glared at her for a long moment, barbs perched on her tongue, ready to sting, but instead she let them fall idly. The fight could be visibly seen draining from her until all that was left was bitter weariness.

"You're welcome to visit him, so long as his sisters or I are with you," Fran conceded.

Emily shook her head slowly. "You've made a very big mistake," she said, too worn to be a threat, but perhaps a warning.


	5. Chapter 5

Emily had fallen asleep camped in the waiting area outside Derek's hospital room; it was the first rest she'd gotten since she left London, but she refused to leave the hospital, determined to make a point to his mother about her commitment to him.

For his part, Derek was free to move about the hospital at will and, at the moment, he could really use a break from Doyle and his attempts to pry about what had happened between him and Emily. He decided to take advantage of his wider expanse of freedom and explore the new setting – not that it was the first time he'd been inside this hospital, but on those occasions, he'd been concerned with getting in and out as quickly as possible and getting back to work. Since he was stuck here for the foreseeable future, though, he decided he might as well get to know the place.

He'd gotten as far as the cafeteria when he spotted a familiar face he hadn't seen in weeks. "Baby girl..." he said quietly, not having realized until that moment how much he'd missed her.

She jumped, almost spilling her coffee all over her neon blouse, the sudden movement startling him as he wasn't used to producing a reaction in people of late. Her head turned sharply in his direction. "Derek?" she whispered, apparently unable to believe her eyes.

His eyes widened in surprise. "You can see me?"

She pulled her phone out of her chartreuse purse with one hand and held it to her ear. He was confused for a moment since he hadn't heard it ring, then he realized someone would probably cart her off to the psych ward if she was seen talking to what everyone else saw as thin air. "I can't believe it's really you! God, it's so good to see you – I've been going crazy worrying you might die."

"It's good to see you to, baby girl," he tried to wrap her in a hug before forgetting he was still insubstantial. "How are you able to see me? No one else can."

"I've been experimenting to see if I could become a medium and I guess it worked! Wow, this is so weird... So, you're what, a ghost, a spirit, a poltergeist?" she asked.

"Umm...a spirit, I think."

"So, you're not dead?" Her face was shining, full of hope. "Oh, thank God, I was so worried," she said on a relieved exhale. She clutched a hand to her heart and made a dramatic face. "You really scared me, Mister!"

"I know," he said sheepishly. "I'm sorry."

Her attempt at anger dissolved into a forgiving smile, unable to stay angry with him for very long. "So, what's the scoop? What are you doing here? Are you haunting me?" she teased.

"My soul or spirit or whatever is... Well, I'm sort of trapped between dead and alive. Something's keeping me here, preventing me from either crossing over or returning to my body. And I can't do either until I figure out what the problem is."

She pursed her lips in a dramatic reproduction of thoughtfullness. "And you've got no idea what could possibly be so dramatically wrong in your life that you can't die or live?"

He shrugged, deciding to go for broke. Garcia didn't know about him and Emily, though she may have suspected something. They'd wanted to keep their relationship a secret until they'd been together a year, but just as they were preparing to tell everyone, everything had fallen apart around them. "I know it has something to do with Emily."

"Explain," she demanded. She looked like he'd just confirmed every suspicion she'd ever had, but was trying to restrain her glee.

"Apparently, we have some sort of unfinished business..." He shrugged as if it didn't matter, as if she didn't hold his heart in her hands. "That's why I've been in London with her."

"So, what happens if you don't figure it out?"

"I don't know," he whispered, shoulders slumped. "I either stay trapped in this state forever or I move on... I think that's how it works."

"Well, buddy, you better figure it out because you are _not_ moving on," she informed him seriously, "I won't let you."

He grinned. "I know, baby girl."

"I take it that Emily has no idea you've been hanging around all this time?" Derek shook his head. "Do you want me to tell her?"

"No!" he protested adamantly. "She wouldn't understand – you know she's a skeptic, she wouldn't believe you. And even if she did, it's something I need to figure out for myself...I need to do this on my own."

"But maybe she'd have some kind of idea that might help you," Garcia argued. "Don't you want to wake up?"

"Of course I do, baby girl. But it's too much pressure to put her. I'm not going to do that to her. I need to do it by myself."

"I don't like that." She pouted, fixing him with a stern glare.

"Please, just trust me," he begged. "I could really use your help right now..."

"I'll do anything," she insisted without hesitation.

"Find out anything you can about spirits and near death experiences, anything about staying _away_ from the light. Help me buy some more time." She nodded. "And take care of Emily...make sure she doesn't accidentally starve to death before I wake up."

"Right." She sighed sadly. "I miss you. I could really use a Derek Morgan hug right about now."

He smiled apologetically. "You'll have to take a rain check on that one, but I promise as soon as I wake up, the first hug is yours."

She grinned slyly at him. "Don't kid yourself, my dear. You and I both know that first hug has Emily's name all over it."

"I never could get one past you, could I?"

She shook her head, but her attempt at a smile was grim.


	6. Chapter 6

Emily awoke with a start and was briefly disoriented, before realizing she was being shaken.

"It's okay, Emily, it's just me," Desiree said softly, hand still on her shoulder.

"Desi?" she said muzzily, rubbing her eyes and stretching out the kinks in her neck from the awkward sleeping position she'd been in, stretched out across several chairs in the waiting room. "What-what are you doing here?"

"I need to talk to you," she said urgently.

"If this is about me being here, I'm not about to..."

"No, no," Desi interrupted. "I think my mother is wrong. About you. About what Derek would want."

Emily sat up straighter and combed the hair out of her face with one hand. "Really?"

"If there's one thing I know, it's that my brother loved you _so_ much. He would want you in there. _I_ want you in there."

"But your mother made it very clear that..."

"I'm going to help you," she promised. "I'm going to help _Derek_."

"Well," she said slowly, digesting that information. "Can-can I see him?"

* * *

For several moments upon entering the room and taking a tentative seat on the edge of his bed, Emily just stared at Derek's unconscious form, at a loss for words. "Oh, Derek..." she whispered at length, wrapping a hand around his. "Why did this happen?"

 _Derek slowly sank down onto the bed beside her. He reached out a hand to brush her hair behind her ear the way he used to do before remembering that he couldn't touch her. "Em..." he said._

"I know I should say something right now – something about how I'm feeling, how much I want you to wake up...but I just don't have the words. I don't know how I'm supposed to feel right now. I don't know what to say to make this better." She gave a small humourless laugh. "I don't suppose there is a 'better' in this situation," she said softly. "There hasn't been one in a really long time. Not for us." A tear spilled over to trail down her cheek.

" _There is a better, Em, I promise you there is," Derek said, wishing more than anything he could dry her tears._

"Don't get me wrong – of course, I want you to wake up. I'd give anything... But what happens when you do? Things between us have been so..." She shook her head, not having the words to describe it. "Since...what happened. I guess I haven't done the greatest job of dealing with it..."

 _Ian stood in the corner, observing with a critical eye. His brow rose sharply, interest piqued, but Derek was doing his best to ignore him. He had no interest in dissecting his relationship with Emily to satisfy his curiosity._

For a moment, she looked anywhere but at him. "If you wake up, I promise, I'll do better."

" _I don't care about that," Derek swore, "Emily, listen to me: this is not your fault. You didn't cause this by not loving me enough, by not being good enough...you've always been enough."_

She attempted to climb into bed beside him so that she could rest her head on his chest, but the moment she heard the beating of his heart beside her ear, she jumped up as if she'd been burned. She shook her head, blinking too often in a weak attempt to hold back the tears.

She couldn't do this.

She wasn't strong enough.

Emily fled the room, vision obscured by tears, running straight into Reid, knocking the wind out of both of them. Reid stumbled back several steps, arms windmilling, before regaining his balance.

"Emily!" he said, surprised, reaching out a hand to steady her. "I didn't know you were in town." He looked down at the floor awkwardly. "I'm sorry for not calling to tell you that he'd been in an accident..." he apologized, cheeks flushing red in shame, "I wanted to, but Mrs. Morgan asked us not to..."

"Oh...don't worry about it. I understand," she replied in a tone making it clear she absolutely did not understand. "She put you in an awkward position, that's not your fault."

"Yeah, well, I feel bad about it anyway," he insisted. "If there's something I can do to make it up to you..."

Emily pursed her lips in thought. "Actually, there is. I need to know how to wake him up."

He stared at her silently, mouth gaping open, for a few moments. "But...he's in a coma," he pointed out as if she'd somehow missed that.

"I know that! But his doctors aren't doing anything! There has to be something we can do to, I don't know, stimulate his brain or something..."

"I'm not that kind of doctor," he said apologetically. "I want to help you – help him – but I just don't know that there's anything..."

"No, Reid!" she interrupted, eyes blazing like he'd never seen. "I don't accept that. You're the smartest person I know, if you just _try_ , I'm sure you can find something. I don't care how small a chance, how untested the method, how unscientific the principle, if it has even the _slightest_ chance of working, I need to know. Please...can you do that?"

He looked into her eyes, brimming with tears she was struggling to hold back. He knew that desperation in her eyes all too well – he'd seen it in his own reflection for seven months, wishing there were anything at all he could've done to save her life. He nodded slowly. "Yeah," he said quietly, "Yeah, okay. I'll see what I can find."

She wrapped her arms around him and he felt her breath shuddering as she choked down the tears.

"I'm not promising anything..." he added quietly, hating to burst her bubble, but needing to ground her in reality.

She pulled back, shaking her head. "I just need someone to _try_..."

He nodded slowly. There were a lot of things he wanted to ask – like why her eyes were bloodshot like she hadn't slept in a week, why her hands shook frantically, why she looked like her heart was breaking...he didn't ask any of them, though.

He just held her.


	7. Chapter 7

"Coma arousal therapy," Reid announced, popping up beside Emily in line for coffee in the hospital cafeteria, nearly startling her into dropping the cup of boiling liquid in her hand.

"Come again?" she asked once her heart rate had slowed.

"It's unproven at best, but..." He trailed off. "Emily, your hands are shaking," he pointed out as she stirred her coffee, sloshing the brown liquid over the sides of the cup.

"I haven't had breakfast yet," she said, a little too quickly. Without waiting for her coffee to cool, she took several large swallows.

He eyed her suspiciously for a few moments, but said nothing. He grabbed a muffin, a container of yogurt, and a banana and paid for them, then set them before her as they sat down.

"You didn't have to..." she started to protest.

"Eat," he said firmly, leaving no room for argument.

Conceding, she took a bite of the muffin and plastered on a _'happy now?'_ smile. "You were saying?" she prompted.

"Right. It's unproven at best, but there is some evidence that coma arousal therapy may help stimulate brain activity in patients in a persistent vegetative state. I can't promise that it will do anything, but it's worth a shot." He seemed exceedingly proud of himself for having discovered something.

Emily's face lit up. "Reid, that's wonderful! So, how does it work? What do we do?"

His cheeks pinked with embarrassment. "Well, umm..." He cleared his throat. "You have to _stimulate_ his, uh, senses..."

"'Stimulate his senses?'" she repeated skeptically. He avoided eye contact for so long that realization dawned on her. "Oh... _Oh_. Alright, then. Well, I'll try anything."

He cleared his throat again. "Great. Okay, well, let me know." He scuttled off just as quickly as he'd approached.

* * *

"If you're in there, please don't judge me for what I'm about to do," Emily informed Derek's unconscious form seriously. "It was Reid's idea, by the way. I'm not sure yet whether I want to thank him or kill him."

 _Derek clapped his hands together. "Let's do this. I'm ready to wake up."_

" _It isn't going to work," Ian said._

 _Derek turned to glower at him. "Isn't there somewhere else you can be right now?"_

" _And miss the show?" He grinned, showing too many teeth. "Not for anything in the world."_

She paced back and forth a few times. "This is weird. This is _so_ weird," she said, mostly to herself. "Damn it, Reid." She let out a heavy breath and rubbed her hands together, trying to psych herself up.

Not feeling any braver, but anxious to get it over with, she climbed onto the bed so she could straddle his hips. "I'm going to stimulate your senses, baby..." she said, attempting to be sexy, but feeling incredibly awkward. A bright red flush crept across her cheeks and down her neck. Dirty talk had never been her strong suit and, on more than one occasion, her attempts had left him in uproarious laughter.

Her eyes lifted to the ceiling as if looking to God above for the fortitude to power through her embarrassment and do this for him.

"Scent," she said, reaching over to the table at the side of the bed and grabbing the elegant glass bottle there, spraying the air with perfume.

" _Oh, no, not the perfume..." he rasped, inhaling deeply. That perfume never failed to get him excited – it smelled like her, like_ them _. He'd given it to her as a gift for their six month anniversary. It wasn't the typical spicy cinnamon scent she usually wore, but it had quickly become her favourite. He didn't think he'd ever forget that last time she'd worn it..._

"Sound," she said next, flicking on the stereo, a slow jazz tune tinkling out of the speakers. She'd gone into his iPod and found the most played song, putting it on repeat. She didn't know the name of the song, but she remembered dancing together to it on their first date.

" _Princess," Derek said, shaking his head. He'd never heard the song before that date and had to tip the DJ a twenty to find out the name so he could listen to it again. It had quickly become his favourite song. He hadn't been able to listen to it since she'd left without his heart feeling like it might shrivel up and die, but even after all this time, it still sounded like them, together._

"Now, the good part..." she whispered, pulling her sweater up over her head, exposing her lace clad breasts. She took one of his hands in hers and pressed his palm against her hip. "If you're in there, now would be the perfect time to wake up," she informed him seriously.

 _Derek shut his eyes, head lolling back. He groaned softly, entirely too aware of Ian's presence to really enjoy it._

She moved his hand up to cup her breast through her bra, resting her hand over top of his to squeeze softly.

There was a sharp knock at the door and before she could climb off of him, Desi entered the room before stopping short, eyes wide. "Oh! Oh, my God!" she yelped, covering her eyes. "What-what are you doing?"

"It's called coma arousal therapy," Emily said in a rush, scrambling for her sweater to cover up. "I'm trying to wake him up..." Her face was as red as the sweater she was unsuccessfully attempting to pull over her head.

Desi gave a snort of laughter. "Well, knowing my brother, if anything would wake him up, it would be that."

Emily couldn't help but laugh, in spite of her utter mortification. "Please, don't tell your mother," she begged.

Desi shook her head, biting down on her laughter to spare Emily's feelings. "She doesn't need to know," she agreed.

Emily smiled gratefully. "Well, I'm just going to go crawl in a hole and die, okay?" She squeezed his hand one last time and moved to leave, when his hand tightened around hers, briefly, but definitely there.


	8. Chapter 8

"He squeezed my hand! Why doesn't anyone believe me?" Emily demanded. She knew she was starting to sound like a broken record, but she couldn't bring herself to care. She'd tell anyone who would listen until God himself made her stop.

"I do believe you," Reid insisted, "But it doesn't necessarily mean he's waking up. It could be everything or nothing." He was using his victim voice on her, talking slowly, gently, like she was liable to go off the deep end at any moment and she _hated_ it.

"But he _could_ be?" she pressed, trying to keep her voice level and not doing a very good job of succeeding. She couldn't bring herself to care.

"I suppose, _maybe_ ," he conceded reluctantly, "But..."

She cut him off. "But nothing, Reid! He's going to wake up, I just know it."

"But _how_?" Reid asked. "How can you possibly know?"

"I just _know_. I know with every fibre of my being," she insisted, "He's _not_ gone. He's not _done_."

"Emily, I know you want to believe that," he said gently, "But comas aren't something the medical community full understands yet. They don't know why one patient wakes up and the next doesn't. But he's had a very traumatic brain injury and if he hasn't woken up yet, his chances..."

"Are you on my side or not?" she interrupted yet again. The betrayal in her face was clear as day. She'd thought if anyone was going to be her ally in this, it was him. Sure, he knew the statistics, the studies, the science, but he also knew _Derek_ , as a friend, as a _fighter_.

"Of course, I'm on your side," he reassured, the look of devastation on her face twisting his gut with guilt. He reached out a hand to gently squeeze hers. "I'm just saying..."

"Well, don't! Don't 'just say'!" She yanked her hand from underneath his and slammed her palms down on the table. Then, softer, "Help me..."

"I want to help you, really, I do. I just don't know that there's anything left to do. He's in a persistent vegetative state now. His chances of waking up are minimal."

"Fine. I'll do this myself." She shot him a withering look before she turned and marched off.

"Emily," he called after her, guilt somewhere in his throat now, "Emily, wait!"

She whirled around on her heel with an acerbic reply on her tongue, but it died before she had the chance to say it when Desiree came rushing up, obviously flustered.

"Desi, what's wrong?" she asked, feeling panic boiling in her stomach before she knew why.

"Mama wants to put Derek on DNR..." Desiree said in a rush. It was clear that she'd been crying.

All the air rushed from Emily's lungs and she struggled to remember how to breathe. "What?" she rasped. She felt like she might throw up.

"She says he's been in the coma too long, she's tired of watching him suffer. The next time he codes, they're going to take him off life support."

"No!" Emily shouted without realizing she was shouting. "She can't do that!"

"Maybe she's right." Reid said gently. "Maybe it's time to let him go before..."

Emily glared at him and he immediately clammed up.

"I think she's making a mistake," Desiree insisted. "We have to do something."

"What can we do?" Reid posited. "I mean, short of appealing to the Consent and Capacity Board..." He paused, seeing the look in Emily's eyes. "Emily, no. Even if you did make an appeal, they're unlikely to grant it unless you're his next of kin or you have legal consent to make end of life decisions."

She gnawed on her thumbnail in thought, even though it was already bitten down to the quick. "I think I might have a way..." she said slowly.

" _That's my girl," Derek said._

* * *

"How much do you know about health law?" Emily said by way of greeting.

Hotch looked up sharply at the interruption. "Emily," he said, surprised. "I didn't realize you were in town. How are things at Interpol?" He gestured for her to take a seat.

She crossed the small office, but didn't sit down. "Could you, say, make an appeal on behalf of a patient's best interests?" she asked again, ignoring his question. She wasn't there to make small talk.

His eyes followed her as she paced back and forth like a caged lion. "Why do you ask?" he asked, though he had a feeling he already knew.

"Derek's mother wants to take him off life support, but I know that's not what Derek would want," she said with utter conviction. "I need to stop her and I need your help to appeal to the Board on his behalf."

Hotch frowned. "Emily..." he said slowly.

"Don't Emily me, Hotch," she nearly growled. "Can you help me or not?"

"I want to help you, but I don't know that I can. For one thing, it would be a conflict of interest. For another, I haven't practiced health law since law school. I could talk to some of my colleagues and see if there isn't someone better able to help you, but...I don't know that there's much they can do. The law is likely going to side with his mother on this. And perhaps, we should too."

"I respect Mrs. Morgan immensely," Emily said, "But she's wrong about this."

"He's been in the coma for a long time now," he reasoned, "Maybe it's time to end his suffering..."

"Derek has never once given up on anything and he would not want us to give up on him!" Her frustration was edging into tears and she angrily wiped them away as quickly as they started. "I've never asked you for anything before, but I _need_ your help now! _Derek_ needs you! He's stood by you for damn near ten years, stood up to Strauss for you, argued in front of hearing committees for you and never once asked for anything in return and now you're just going to _abandon_ him?" Her voice was rising in spite of herself.

Hotch sighed wearily, pinched the bridge of his nose. "I'll see what I can do," he agreed reluctantly. "But, Emily, I think you should prepare yourself for the possibility that Derek _is_ going to die. Maybe it's time to say your goodbyes."

"I'm not going to let that happen," she vowed.


	9. Chapter 9

As the judge presiding over the appeal settled into his seat, shuffling the legal documents in his hands, Emily and Fran stared at each other across the table – two women who had once been drawn together by their shared love of Derek, now couldn't have been farther apart.

"Don't do this," Emily plead in a desperate last-ditch effort to get Fran to change her mind. She didn't want to fight her, but was willing to if that's what it took to keep Derek alive. "It's not what Derek would want."

Fran just shook her head sadly. "Derek didn't want a lot of things..."

Emily didn't miss the pointed undertones to the statement. She opened her mouth to argue, but didn't have the chance before the judge started the proceedings with Fran's argument.

She handed the judge a photo of Derek and his sisters – in the brief glimpse she caught of it, Emily couldn't help but notice the million watt smile across Derek's face, one arm slung across each of his sisters' shoulders. Happy. Healthy. She didn't know whether they'd ever get that Derek back.

"This was taken on a hike in the Blue Ridge Mountains," Fran said. "That day, Derek told me that he didn't want to live if he couldn't do that."

Incredulous, Emily said, "He once told me he couldn't live without pie!"

Ignoring her outburst, Fran handed the judge a print out of an email. "Four years ago, Derek sent me this. 'Just finished a case. We rescued the victim, but she's in the ICU on life support – feeding tube, respirator, the whole nine yards. Don't let me go out like that, Mama. Promise.'" She looked over at Sarah who was seated next to her for support. "I made my son a promise. We have tried everything to wake him up and he's only degenerating."

"His hand _moved_ ," Emily said, still incredulous that no one seemed to care about that fact but her. "I feel that he's here. I'm guided by that in everything I do. I know he wants to be kept alive."

"And I believe he would want to die with dignity," Fran said.

"He's still alive!" Emily exclaimed, on the verge of tears. "And he'd want to be kept that way!" She sniffled and wiped away the lone tear that had escaped. She handed the judge a copy of Derek's living will. "Three years ago, Derek signed this, giving _me_ power to make end of life decisions. He told me that if anything should happen to him, he wanted me to do _anything_ to save his life."

The judge frowned as he examined the document. "This will was neither signed nor notarized."

"There wasn't time before..." Emily interrupted his objection. She paused, shook her head, and trailed off. "Derek and I spent damn near every day surrounded by life and death. We discussed it all the time. I know it's what he wanted."

"She wants to keep him alive because she can't bear to let him go," Fran argued. "This is about her guilt, her abandonment issues. She's not putting his best interests first. She's not seeing what he would have wanted."

"He's an agent, above all else. He _saves_ people. He never gave up on a victim, _ever_ , and he would _not_ want us to give up on him!"

* * *

"I'm scared," Emily whispered, head in her hands. "I'm _terrified._ " It was the first time she'd admitted aloud the very real fear settled in her stomach like a stone.

"I know," JJ consoled, one hand on her shoulder rubbing in soothing circles. "I know." She was using her victim voice, but Emily didn't have the strength to be indignant about it.

"I'm terrified that she's going to pull the plug and..." She trailed off, unable to voice the fear. Her breath rattled on the inhale, her entire body shuddering with the effort of holding back her tears. She was afraid that if she let them start, they might never stop.

"It's going to be okay," JJ promised, even though she knew that it very likely was not. As much as she didn't want to lose her friend, she knew it would eventually be okay again, that the world would go on. She also knew that Emily might never recover from it.

"No, it's not," Emily voiced what they both already knew.

JJ nodded, conceding. "What can I do?" she asked, knowing full well there was nothing.

Emily didn't reply, having caught sight of Fran, in line for coffee at the canteen. She stood up suddenly, shaking off JJ's hand, even as she tried to stop her, already knowing this confrontation was headed nowhere good. "Why are you doing this?" she demanded.

Fran sighed, more weary than anything else. "Do you really want to have this conversation?" she asked. She didn't want to argue, didn't want to air their dirty laundry in front of a cafeteria full of strangers, but it appeared there was nothing for it.

Emily stood her ground, arms crossed over her chest, chin jutting out defiantly. They were having this discussion whether Fran wanted to or not.

"If this were some random faceless victim, you would see this my way," Fran said. "You would see that we've exhausted every resource and it's time to let him go."

"No," she insisted. "I wouldn't. But it doesn't matter because it's _not_ some random victim, it's _Derek_. He's your _son_ , you know him – he is a _fighter_."

"I don't get why you don't see what I'm saying."

"You're saying you want to kill him!" she burst out, voice too loud for the hallowed quietness of a hospital, attracting attention from passersby.

"That's ridiculous," Fran argued.

"No, it's not. That is what you're saying and I'm _never_ going to understand that."

"You are making this about you and it's about _him_."

JJ could see Emily's eyes blazing, knew that nothing good was going to follow. She clamped a hand down on Emily's wrist, dragging her away before someone said something hurtful they couldn't take back. She smiled apologetically at Fran, shook her head sadly.

No one was winning here.

Least of all, Derek.


	10. Chapter 10

"I was so sorry to hear about Agent Morgan's accident. I – umm – I brought these," Declan said shyly, holding out a bouquet of flowers.

" _Son..." Ian breathed when he caught sight of the boy. He approached as if to embrace the boy, but paused just short, just staring at him with a tenderness that seemed out of place on his grizzled face._

 _Derek was surprised to see the boy, surprised he'd thought to visit, given that they'd barely known each other. He supposed he shouldn't be all that surprised, considering that Emily had helped raise him – he always knew she'd be a good mother._

"That's very sweet," Emily said, stroking a hand over his messy blond curls with a maternal tenderness. "It would mean a lot to him that you're here, if he were awake."

"I had to come," he said with a shrug, as if he'd simply had no choice. "I wanted to pay my respect. He looked out for me, protected me when you couldn't. He was a good man."

" _Is_ ," Emily corrected softly.

"Is," Declan echoed.

There was silence for a long moment. "Did you want to see him?" she asked when it had stretched on for too long. She didn't technically have permission to enter his room, but she was beyond caring just then.

"I don't want to disturb him..."

"Please," she insisted, one hand on his shoulder, guiding him into the room. He hadn't had many visitors since the hearing – everyone seemed to be waiting for the outcome with bated breath, waiting to see whether they needed to say goodbye. She didn't want him to feel like he'd been forgotten. "The doctors say it's important for him to hear familiar voices."

"Yeah. Alright," he agreed slowly. "Just for a little while."

A heavy silence descended as Declan stared at Derek's unconscious form, trying to find something to say and failing. Emily didn't say anything either, just watched them, the two most important men in her life together for the first and possibly last time.

"He's going to get better, right?" Declan asked, shattering the brittle silence.

Emily's smile was tight, more for Declan's benefit than any real happiness. "The doctors don't know why he hasn't woken up," she admitted, "But his brain is healing and there's no reason why he shouldn't wake up at any time."

"You love him, don't you?" It was phrased like a question, but it wasn't.

"I don't... Really, I..." she sputtered, taken aback. Words failed her and she just shook her head.

"I can see it in your face," he insisted.

"I thought I did, for a long time, but things are different now, complicated... Even if I did, we're so far apart that it wouldn't work."

"You should tell him," he said, ignoring her attempt at reasoning out of her feelings.

"I don't know..." she started to argue.

He cut her off. "Tell him. I loved my father, but when I had the chance to tell him, it was too late. I'd give anything to be able to tell him."

She stared at him sadly for a long time. She reached out a hand and rested it gently on his cheek. "You've grown up to be such an intelligent, kind young man. I'm so proud of you."

"Do you think my father would have been proud?"

"Of course," she said, still wearing that sad smile.

" _I'm so proud of you, son," Ian murmured in agreement._

" _How a kid like that came from a guy like you, I'll never understand," Derek said, shaking his head, interrupting the moment._

" _He's a good boy," Ian said defensively._

" _And you're a bastard," Derek snapped._

 _Ian chuckled, even though it wasn't funny. "Do you want to know why I'm here?"_

" _Not particularly."_

" _My son," he told him anyway. "I may not have been a good man or even a good father, but my son loved me. As I lay dying, he reached for my hand and told me he remembered me. He prayed for me in that moment, for my soul – his prayers saved me from whatever fate awaited me. By his grace, I was granted a second chance. That's why I'm here, with her. I have a debt to repay."_

" _A debt?" Derek echoed skeptically. "You_ killed _her. How can you possibly make up for that?" If it were up to him, Ian Doyle would be roasting in Hell for what he'd done to Emily._

" _By giving her the one thing she wants more than anything."_

" _And what's that?"_

" _You. Bringing you back to life should make up for taking hers, no matter how briefly."_

" _And how exactly do you plan on doing that?" Derek scoffed. He had no idea how Doyle intended to accomplish what he hadn't been able to do in three months._

 _Ian pushed him sharply in the chest, causing him to stumble backwards, unprepared for the sudden onslaught. "Why are you stuck here?" he demanded._

" _What are you doing!?" Derek asked, incredulous._

" _Why are you stuck here?" he asked again, pushing him hard a second time._

" _Well, I'm not a neurologist, so that's not really my area of expertise," Derek said sarcastically._

" _That's not an answer." He jabbed him sharply in the chest. "If you don't wake up, what happens?"_

" _I guess I stay here until my body dies," Derek said, shrugging, trying to dodge his hands._

" _And how does that make you feel?"_

 _Derek rolled his eyes. "You're a terrorist, not a fucking shrink."_

" _Come on, Agent Morgan, say it."_

" _Like...like this isn't a life! Like I can't do anything – I can't even change these clothes!"_

" _How does that make you_ feel _?" he asked again._

" _Scared!" he shouted, "Okay!? Angry. Terrified. Like I've been cheated. Like it's a big cosmic_ joke _!"_

" _So, why won't you wake up?"_

" _Because I have a traumatic brain injury." He gestured at his head for emphasis._

" _That is not an answer. Why won't you wake up?" Ian shoved him hard._

" _Because..." he snapped._

" _Because why?"_

" _Because!"_

" _Just say it." Shove. "You're on the verge of saying it." Shove. "Why won't you wake up?"_

" _Because I don't want to wake up!" Derek burst out. Then, quieter, "That makes no sense."_

 _Ian looked entirely too smug. "You have everything to live for on the physical plane..." He gestured emphatically at Emily, "But you don't want to wake up. Why?"_

 _He shook his head. "That's the thing – I want to wake up more than anything."_

" _So, then what's stopping you? What are you afraid of?"_


	11. Chapter 11

In the end, the judge sided with his mother.

One by one, the team came to pay their respects before he was taken off life support.

Rossi sat by the bed and said the rosary, praying for Derek's soul, that his struggles with faith be forgiven. _Derek got down on his knees and prayed with him, for the first time since Emily had died – he prayed not for himself, but for his mother and for his sisters, for his friends and most of all, for Emily._ When he finished his prayer, Rossi poured himself a glass of scotch from a bottle he'd smuggled past the nurses and toasted Derek's life. He said his goodbyes with a fond smile and a solemn nod, with a firm hand on his shoulder and an 'I'll miss you, kid'.

Hotch's visit didn't last for very long, but was no less poignant. He would be the second agent he'd lost in the line of duty, though there had nearly been others on numerous occasions – it hadn't gotten any easier, the second time around. He told Derek he was proud of him – to have served alongside him. He told him he trusted him with his life and he was sorry he hadn't better protected his. That meant more to Derek than anything else he could have said.

JJ brought Henry with her when she came to say her goodbyes. She told the boy that Uncle Derek was going to Heaven and to say bye-bye. Henry climbed onto the bed and stared into Derek's lifeless face as if confused. "He's sleeping?" he asked. Then, hollered in his face, "WAKE UP!" JJ gave a watery laugh, didn't seem to know how to reply, how to explain it in a way the four year old would understand. As she left, she paused in the doorway, opened her mouth as if to say something, but didn't...couldn't. There was nothing left to say.

Reid just sat beside his bed for a long time in silence, knee bouncing as he struggled to find words – one of the few times in his life there were none. He was all too used to people leaving – he'd just never thought Derek – who had been like the brother he'd never had, but always wanted – would be one of them. "I didn't really believe it would make a difference," he said at length, "But I _hoped_...I hoped she could wake you up. I knew the facts about comas, the science behind them, the likelihood of waking up...I knew all of that and I still thought maybe you could beat the odds because I knew _you_. How stubborn you were, how you've fought and beat the odds your whole life. I knew better than to hope, but I did anyway..."

Elle spent nearly twenty minutes wavering outside his room before she worked up the courage to go inside. He didn't know who called her, but was very thankful they did; it had been years since he'd seen her, though they emailed occasionally, and he hadn't realized how much he'd missed her until that moment. She didn't talk about the past, didn't talk about the future, and he was glad, content to hear about the now. She told him about her husband and her daughter and he could tell she was happy. He was glad. She deserved it. She told him that if her new baby was a boy, she'd name him Derek.

He was surprised that Blake visited, having only know him barely two years. He was not surprised that Gideon did not, despite having known him for many. He wondered briefly if he knew, if he cared. Only briefly, though.

Garcia came last. In many ways, hers would be the hardest goodbye. "Don't go," she begged him, already in tears, make up smudged around her eyes, when she walked in the room. Without hesitation, she embraced his incorporeal form as if he were standing there in front of her, as real as she was.

 _"I don't want to go, baby girl," he said firmly, wrapping his arms around her for what could very well be the last time. "I'm not ready."_

"Then wake up! Just...jump back in your body!" she urged, gesturing wildly at his lifeless form.

 _"I'm_ trying _," he insisted, "I have tried. Don't you think I want to? Do you think I_ want _to die?" It came off a little accusatory and he immediately regretted his harsh tone._

"But if you don't, you'll die... You _can't_ die. Please, don't die!" she sobbed. "I don't want to live without you..."

 _"You'll get through it," he assured her, "You always do. You're stronger than you know." There was a long pause then. "You'll look after her for me?" he asked, not specifying who. He didn't need to._

She nodded slowly. She didn't say that she'd never fully recover. She didn't need to.

* * *

"I would like you to remove him from the ventilator," Fran told the doctors with finality. Her voice was thick from holding back tears.

"Listen to me," Emily urged, desperate for one last chance to plead her case. "You just need to give him a little bit more time. You owe him that! Just more time! That's all he needs." Her eyes were wide and wild, her voice desperate and cracking.

Fran didn't meet her eyes – whether by choice or inability, it was unclear. "It's what we're doing," she insisted softly.

"No, no, no." Emily shook her head frantically. "We are not. Please, I am _begging_ you!"

"Okay, look," Fran said emphatically, finally meeting her gaze. "I can see that you are in pain and I know that your heart is breaking, but so is mine! He is my son and I love him; I have always loved him and I will never stop, but I can't stand to see him in there, like that, suffering. So, I am asking you to please just let him die with some dignity!"

"I can't..." Emily said on a hitching breath. "I'm not ready to let him go."


	12. Chapter 12

"Derek..." Emily whispered, taking his hand in hers and interlacing their fingers, then softly kissing the back of his hand. "I don't know know how to do this..."

" _Me neither," he murmured. He stroked a hand over her hair and, for a moment, she shut her eyes and leaned into his hand, almost as if she could feel him._

Her eyes were still closed as her breath caught on the lump in her throat. "And I don't know what to do."

" _I know, Princess."_

"Because it feels like I'm giving up on you." Her breath hitched on a sob she was trying her best to hold back.

" _I know that's not true," he assured. His thumb gently stroked over her cheekbone the way he used to do when he watched her sleep._

"And I am _not_ giving up on you," she vowed. Her eyes opened then, lifting to the ceiling as her tongue flicked out over her top lip.

" _I know."_

"Screw it! I can't..." The sobs finally won out and she choked on her words. "I can't do this, I _won't_ do this. I will _not_ say goodbye to you. I won't, okay?" With an anguished wail, she buried her head in his chest, crying freely now in spite of her best attempts to keep her emotions in check. She'd promised herself she wouldn't do this, wouldn't break down, but things had never really gone according to plan where he was concerned.

" _That's my girl. You never let me go." He ran a hand along her back, feeling every sob beneath his palm. Then, softer, "Never let me go."_

"Emily...it's time," Fran said gently from the doorway. "I'm sorry."

"I know." And she did know, but that didn't make it any easier to understand or to live with. It didn't make her hate her any less.

With little fanfare, the doctor went through the process of turning off the ventilator – like it didn't matter, like _he_ didn't.

"Derek, I am here, okay?" Emily said urgently, squeezing his hand that much tighter.

" _You hold on tight," he whispered in her ear._

* * *

Emily burst out of Derek's room, crying so hard she nearly choked on each gulping breath.

Reid and Garcia were waiting for her with that look on their faces – like they knew what she was going through, like they could make it better if they just said the right words or did the right thing. Like this would all go away if they just loved her enough. She _hated_ that look.

"Em..." Garcia spoke first, swooping in with a hug she didn't want. "Are you okay?"

"No! I'm not okay!" she exclaimed, stepping out of reach. "It's never going to be okay!"

"I know it feels like that, but..."

Emily held up a hand to stop her. "Before you say it, just...don't."

Garcia's face fell, but she said nothing more on the matter. "Are you going to stay...until it happens?"

"I can't." She shook her head vehemently. "I can't watch him die. I just can't."

"Do you want to go..." Garcia started to offer, not wanting her to be alone right then.

Emily was already shaking her head. "Stay. Be with him. I need to go."

* * *

Derek whipped his head around sharply. One moment he was standing in his hospital room, listening to his mother say her goodbyes, the next he was standing in the candy aisle at a gas station.

"Hello?" he asked cautiously. "Can anyone hear me?" He came around the end of the aisle, looking for someone else. "Can anyone see me?"

That's when he spotted him, standing at the counter, paying for gas. "Dad?" His voice was small and hopeful and he felt all of ten years old all over again.

His father didn't turn around, didn't react at all at the sound of his voice.

"Dad?" he said again. The eerie familiarity of everything settled uneasily in his gut. " _Hello_? Can anyone hear me?"

"Are you ready to go, buddy?" his dad asked, turning and looking right through him. "We're going to be late for the game if we don't hustle."

In that moment, those familiar words echoing through his head, Derek realized why he felt so unsettled. "Dad! Look out!" he cried as the two armed men burst inside and started firing.

Just like when he was ten years old, he could do nothing but watch in horror as his father was struck, falling to the floor with an agonized cry, blood already blossoming across his Bears jersey in a wide crimson stain.

Just like when he was ten years old, he rushed to his father's side, hands trembling as he tried to stop the bleeding, bullets still raining down around him.

"Dad? Dad!" he cried, desperate for a response, a sign he was still alive. "Someone help me!" he shouted, looking about for someone, anyone at all.

That's when he saw her.

She couldn't have been more than three years old and something about her face made him ache with familiarity. Time seemed to stop as they stared at each other. There were so many things he wanted to ask in that moment, like why she could see him when no one else could.

She said nothing, just stared at him with doe-like amber eyes framed by long dark lashes. Her lavender dress fluttered about her knees in a nonexistent breeze. Her head was encircled by a crown of white rosebuds woven into her soft raven ringlets. Around her neck, she wore a golden chain with a rose pendant.

He felt like he couldn't breathe. He was filled with the overwhelming need to protect the girl, to save her. "Run!" he called to her, "Go! It isn't safe!"

She just stood there like she hadn't heard, cocking her head to the side slightly, almost curiously. Then, she said three words that made his heart stop. "Don't let go."

She turned slowly and disappeared into nothing.

"Wait!" Derek called after her. He was crying and he didn't know why. "Please!"

But she was already gone.

Then, just as quickly, he was back in the hospital room.


	13. Chapter 13

Garcia came rushing up the moment she spotted Emily, looking like she had half a mind to box her ear or at least give her a stern talking to. It had been a full two days since Derek had been taken off the ventilator and she'd all but disappeared in that time, in spite of Garcia's multiple desperate attempts to reach her.

"Where have you been!?" she demanded, hands on her hips, brows furrowed sternly. "I left you like a hundred messages! I went to your hotel room and knocked on the door, but you didn't answer. I was afraid you'd been in accident! I was _this_ close to tracking your phone and credit cards!"

"I turned my phone off," Emily replied dismissively, intentionally evading the question posed. "I was sleeping."

"For two days?" Garcia said skeptically.

"What's going on, Pen?" Emily asked before she could continue her scolding.

She shook off her irritation, likely saving it for a later date. "Derek's alive!" she announced, with a little exclamatory hand wave.

Emily choked on an inhale, feeling momentarily like she'd forgotten how to breathe, like she'd never taken a breath at all and never would again. "He's awake?"

"Well, no..." Garcia pulled an apologetic face. "But!" she said with a flourish as Emily's face fell. "They turned off the ventilator and he's still breathing on his own! It's been two days and there's no signs of trouble breathing! The doctors say they've never seen this before, totally unprecedented. They say it means he's still in there, he could still wake up!"

Emily was silent for a long time, unable to form a response. She started chewing her thumb nail distractedly.

"Well..." Garcia prompted, waving a hand in front of her vacant eyes. "Isn't that great?"

"Wonderful," Emily agreed breathlessly. Her tone was hollow, though.

 _Derek could see it in her eyes, that expression that said she'd said her goodbyes, given up all hope and was loathe to hope again for fear of only being let down when he inevitably took a turn for the worse. "You have to tell her," he urged Garcia._

She looked at him incredulously, already seeing where this would lead. She opened her mouth to argue, but couldn't in front of Emily without seeming entirely crazy. She tried to convey with her eyes all the reasons that was a bad idea, but his expression remained firm.

" _Tell her I'm right here. Tell her I've been by her side the whole time," he insisted._

She sighed. "Derek wants to talk to you. He's right here, with us – with _you_. He has been the whole time."

Emily frowned, mistrust in her eyes. "What are you talking about, Pen?"

"His spirit is outside his physical body, wandering around the hospital. I can see him, hear him...it's getting him to shut up that's the trick," she joked. Neither one seemed amused.

" _Tell her I'm proud of her for fighting for me. I always knew she would."_

"He says he's glad you've been fighting for him when everyone else was ready to give up," she conveyed. "He says he knew you would."

"What are you doing?" She cocked her head to the side, face falling.

" _Tell her to keep fighting. Mama will come around."_

"He wants you to keep fighting until you win."

"Are you making fun of me?" Emily whispered, eyes full of tears.

"Emily, no!" she said in a rush. "Please believe me, he's here! Right beside you, telling me what to say!"

 _He could see the disbelief in Emily's face, see that her heart was only breaking further. He needed her to believe. "Tell her I'm glad she's wearing the necklace I got her for our anniversary."_

"Anniversary!?" Garcia hissed.

 _He just shook his head. There wasn't time to explain._

"He says he's glad you're wearing the necklace he got you for your anniversary."

Emily touched the simple opal pendant hanging from her neck. She'd worn it every day since he'd given it to her. "How did you know about that? We never told anyone..."

"He's here," Garcia said again.

"Derek?" Emily whispered, almost daring to hope.

" _Yeah, Princess?"_

"Are you there?" She gave a watery smile, still blinking back tears.

" _I'm right here, baby. I always will be."_

"I, umm..." She paused, tongue darting out to flick over her top lip. "I don't know what to say. God, Derek, why did this happen? I don't know how to do this – how to live without you..."

" _I know, Em. I don't know how to either."_

"If... If you're there, I need you to come back. Come back to me."

" _I'm trying," he vowed. "I want that more than anything. I just don't know how."_

Emily's eyes lifted to the ceiling. "If you knew how, you'd have done it already." She choked on a sob that was part self-deprecating laugh. "You're never coming back, are you?"

" _No, Em...no, no, no. Do not give up on me! I_ am _coming back to you! Don't give up on me!"_

Emily stood up suddenly, running her hands through her hair. "I can't do this. I can't believe I actually thought..." She shook her head. "Thanks anyway, Garcia." She ran off down the hall, wiping her tears as she went.

"Emily!" Garcia yelled after her. "Emily, wait! He's here!"

But she was already gone.

"I'm sorry, Derek," she apologized, nearly in tears herself. "I tried, but...I failed you."

 _Derek shook his head. "No. No, you didn't, baby girl. She's not ready to believe. Because if she does, that means that she'll only get her heart broken again when I don't come back to her. I know her – I understand her, maybe better than anyone. It's why she doesn't let people in...if she doesn't let them in, they can't break her by leaving."_

"I'll find her," Garcia promised. "I'll find her and I'll make her believe. I'll tell her..."

 _Derek shook his head again. "No. She has to do it on her own."_


	14. Chapter 14

Emily set the wooden box reverently on the table next to Derek's bed. "I think it's time I showed you something," she said quietly, without looking at him.

 _Derek sat gingerly on the side of the bed, trying to get a look at the top of the box where something was clearly engraved, but her hands were keeping it covered._

She didn't look up as she spoke, staring intensely down at her hands. "I know you think I've forgotten, that I've moved on...but I haven't. I think about it every day. I know you do too. Maybe that's why you don't want to come back – maybe you've found her over there. I wouldn't want to come back either."

She slowly swept her hands across the lid as if wiping off imaginary dust. "I kept all her things, after it happened..." She wrung her hands in her lap, allowing him an unobstructed view of the lid, carved with the name _Rosie Winter Morgan_ and the date _December first, 2009_.

" _Oh, Em..." he breathed, voice catching. He reached out a hand, tracing his finger lovingly over the lettering._

"I got rid of most of her things, but there were some things I just couldn't bear to get rid of." She tenderly lifted the lid of the box and stared at its contents, tears building in her eyes. "I figured if these were your last days, I should finally share it with you."

" _I can't believe you've been going through this on your own all this time..." Guilt squeezed in his chest, feeling like he'd let her down somehow._

"If you were here, you'd be upset that I hadn't talked to you about this, but I didn't want to hold you back with my grief – you seemed to be doing so well and I just wasn't and then the whole Doyle thing happened and...there just wasn't time," she rambled. "I know now you were putting on a front to protect me. I wish I'd done better, done more for you, but...well, I don't think either of us knew how to cope."

She lifted the first item out of the box and showed it to his unconscious form, the ghost of a smile on her lips. "The Bears jersey you bought as soon as I told you I was pregnant. You were so excited that day, I don't think I've ever seen you smile more."

" _I remember that day – you were so scared... I wanted to show you that I wasn't going anywhere, that I wanted that baby more than anything. I had a jersey just like it as a baby; it was how Mama told Dad he was going to have a boy."_

Next was a copy of _Sun, Moon, Star_ by Kurt Vonnegut. "I know you laughed at me when I bought this, called me a geek..."

" _Actually, I called you a nerd. But I said it with love," he teased._

"I thought she should share in the thing that brought her parents together. I never told you, but that's when I knew I would love you for the rest of my days." She shook her head sadly, then changed the subject. "I wanted to paint the nursery to match, with glow in the dark constellations."

" _I remember that you always loved the stars," he recalled. He'd taken her stargazing for their first date and she'd pointed out the constellations and he'd just watched her face light up as she told him myth and legend and story. She'd never been more beautiful than she had in the moonlight that night._

"When I moved around so much, the stars were my constant companions – I wanted her to have something constant in hers...aside from our love."

Next was a tiny pair of pink satin ballet slippers. "You bought these on impulse when we found out we were having a girl. You couldn't resist the idea of a little ballerina, you big softie."

" _Your father showed me a picture of you in a tutu – it was the most adorable thing I'd ever seen. I couldn't resist buying our baby girl her own pair to match her mommy."_

"You didn't know it, but I always wanted to be a ballerina growing up. I was secretly thrilled when you brought these home. You would have been the proudest Papa, her biggest cheerleader, in whatever she wanted to do. You would have been the best parent."

" _Almost as good as you would have been." He'd always known she'd be a wonderful mother and here she was, without a baby..._

"A football shaped soother," she said, producing the next item. "So she wouldn't be _too_ girly."

" _She's gotta have a little Morgan in her..."_

"The onesie JJ bought." The tiny pink garment read 'My Dad (and Mom) can kick your Dad's ass'.

 _He laughed. "I think that was payback for you accidentally teaching Henry to swear. Knowing you, her first word would have been fuck." He was kidding...mostly._

She sniffled softly as she produced a Christmas ornament from the box. It read 'Baby's First Christmas', but there was no picture inside. "You bought this planning to put her twenty week sonogram picture in it. But that was..." She choked on a sob, unable to say the words. "Needless to say, it never got hung on the tree," she said around her hitching sobs.

" _I think I cursed us...I never should have bought that stupid ornament. I wanted to break it into a thousand pieces so many times, but I thought that maybe one day you'd want to remember..."_

The last item she plucked from the box with utmost care: a golden chain with a rose charm. "You bought one for both of us when we picked her name. I always wore mine and we'd give her the other on her sixteenth birthday... I only got to see her wear it once."

 _He realized suddenly that he'd seen that necklace recently. "She's still wearing it. It looks beautiful on her."_

"I'll never forget her. And I'll never forget you. I hope you've found her, on the other side, and that she's happy there. That you'll be happy together and you'll keep her safe until I can join you."

There was a sound from the doorway and Emily whipped around to see who had intruded upon her private moment.

Fran was standing there, tears slowly building in her eyes. "Oh, Emily," she whispered, hand coming up to cover her mouth. "I never knew..."


	15. Chapter 15

He had to get away.

That was his only thought as he raced from the room, from his mother's confusion and Emily's grief and Ian's prying stare. He couldn't do it, couldn't be strong anymore.

So, he ran.

He ran until he couldn't run anymore. Until he'd left everything behind him and he wasn't sure he was ever coming back.

"You can't escape it," a voice said matter-of-factly from behind him.

Derek shut his eyes tightly as if he could wish himself away from the conversation.

"The only way out is death," Ian continued, appearing in front of him as if he'd always been there.

"I'm not in the mood, Doyle," Derek said, turning to face him, cocking his fist, ready to fight him if he had to.

Ian held his hands up in surrender, but he was still smirking.

Derek's hurried departure found them in the nursery – a place he had been only once before, on the worst day of his life. Derek smiled down at the infants, but it was bittersweet. He reached out a hand to clasp one of the baby's reaching fingers. "They can see us, can't they?"

"They can," Ian confirmed. "Because they were so recently spirits themselves. They'll forget how, though, with time." There was a long silence between them, full of soft coos and tiny cries. "She and I were expecting once," he said, interrupting the silence.

"What?" Derek said sharply, looking up at him incredulously.

"The day I was arrested at my compound, she was pregnant. She didn't know I knew, but I did."

Derek felt his heart plummet and he wasn't entirely sure why, whether it was because she'd been pregnant with his child or because she hadn't told him. "You're lying!" he accused.

Ian shook his head. "I've nothing to gain from telling you lies. I don't know what happened to the child, whether she kept it...all I know is that she wanted a baby and I gave her one."

"She would never have brought your child into the world," he snapped.

"She offered to get me out, did you know that?" he said, almost apropos of nothing. "If I'd agreed, I think she would have stayed with me, raised my children. You'd never have known her, never had the chance to fall in love with her...you're lucky I was an incredibly foolish man."

"You're lying!" Derek said again, louder than before, more emphatic.

"Much as you're loathe to admit it, she loved me. I wasn't a good man, but she saw past all that to the good inside. She wanted to be with me, to be a family, to bear my children. But I was too prideful, too stubborn to give her that. If I could do it all over again, I would never let her go."

"Then why did you?"

"What?"

"Why did you let her go? If you loved her as much as you claim to, why didn't you accept her offer? If she loved you as much as you say, you should have said yes and never looked back." He was shouting now, but he couldn't help it. She meant everything to him and he spoke about her like he'd never meant anything to her.

"Death gives you a lot of perspective," Ian said, almost sadly. "If I'd known then what I do now, I would have held tightly to her."

Derek scoffed. "It doesn't take death to know she's the best damn thing to ever happen to a guy like you or even me..."

"Then why did _you_ let her go?" he replied smartly.

"That's different... If it had been up to me, she never would have left, but it wasn't. She was hurting after Rosie's death and she never quite recovered. I can't say I blame her – she lost the most important person in her life. She said she needed time apart to heal and that time slowly grew into a chasm neither of us could cross. I guess I couldn't give her what she needed."

"I'll tell you one thing," Ian said firmly, "If you wake up, don't let go of her again."

* * *

Emily wished she were anywhere else, was anyone else.

The silence that passed between her and Fran seemed to echo through eternity until she wanted to scream just for something to break it.

"I have a grandchild?" Fran asked, sinking into the chair beside the bed with a cutting hope in her eyes.

"Had..." Emily whispered, looking anywhere but at her.

"Had..." Fran repeated, slowly digesting that one word. "Oh, Emily."

"Don't..." Emily said, choking on the word. "Please."

"Why didn't you say anything?"

Emily shook her head, blinking too often. She couldn't do it, couldn't have this conversation.

"Derek never mentioned you were expecting," she continued on regardless.

"No one knew. And afterwards, well, it was just easier to keep it that way. Less painful to not have to constantly be reminded."

"I would have been happy for you, been there for you," she said, almost hurt.

This was why she hadn't wanted to tell anyone. "It's not about that, about you – it was about _us_ , our baby...our grief. If everyone knew, it was real. We didn't want to constantly be reminded of that pain. So, we kept it to ourselves."

"That's why you left?"

"It was part of it. I didn't ever really recover from it and I didn't want to drag him down with me. He could move on better without me."

"Oh, honey, Derek never got over you." Then, she paused, a thoughtful look crossing her face. "Is that why he gave you power of attorney? Because of the baby?"

Emily nodded. "He wanted to be there for me, for his child." She saw her opening then. "He shouldn't be DNR...he wouldn't want that."

Fran nodded slowly, thoughtfully.

"You'll do whatever it takes to save him?" she pressed. "Right now?"

She nodded again. "Take good care of him," she said from the doorway as she left.

Emily looked down at him, stroking his face softly. "I will."


	16. Chapter 16

Emily was basically asleep standing up in line for coffee in the hospital cafeteria when Reid approached behind her. He tapped lightly on her shoulder to alert her to his presence and immediately had to duck to avoid her flying fist as she whirled around, fight-or-flight mode activated.

"It's just me," he squeaked, holding up his hands to protect his head.

Her eyes widened comically, realizing who she'd almost pummelled. "Oh my God, Reid, I'm so sorry!" she apologized, resting a gentle hand on his upper arm.

"It's okay," he assured her, though he still sounded a little terrified. He attempted a smile, but it was somewhat muted as he studied her. Her eyes had heavy bags under them and her usually utterly immaculate appearance was uncharacteristically dishevelled. "Have you been getting any sleep at all?"

" _No," Derek answered for her. He watched as night after night she sat awake at his bedside, frantically picking her nails until they bled, talking softly to him, telling him all the secrets she'd never told anyone before as if she could wake him up by just proving she loved him enough._

"Some," she said vaguely. "The chairs in Derek's room aren't exactly comfortable to sleep in."

"You should go back to your hotel," he urged gently. "Get some real sleep; even just an hour will help improve your cognitive functions and..."

She was already shaking her head before he finished the thought. "I can't. I need to be here when he wakes up. I promised him I would."

"Emily, that's irrational. Besides, I'm sure he won't mind if you take a short nap and..."

" _He's right, Princess. You're going to burn out. I need you to take care of yourself. For both of us."_

"Reid," she said and there was a note of pleading in her voice. "Please. I can't..."

His eyes were full of worry, but he didn't voice it. He knew there was no reaching her when she got like this. "So, I've been thinking," he said, changing the subject, "We've exhausted the more traditional medical approaches to waking him up, maybe if we tried some of the more unconventional approaches..."

Emily's eyes lit up. "Reid, you're my hero!" she declared enthusiastically. "I'll do _anything_."

"Think of his brain like a car in the winter time – all the parts are in working order, but for some reason it just won't start. By delivering an alternating and pulsing electromagnetic field to his prefrontal cortex, we can possibly induce waking."

" _A little juice in the old caboose," Derek said eagerly, clapping his hands together. "Let's do this thing and get me out of here."_

"You've lost me," Emily said, gently prodding him to get to the point.

"Transcranial Magnetic Stimulation," he summarized.

She frowned. "I've heard of that... Doesn't that lead to seizures?"

"Not if the frequency is low enough."

"So, how exactly does it work?"

"Neuronal depolarization." Then, seeing her look of utter confusion, he explained, "Basically, it excites the brain."

" _Sounds fun."_

"I'll try anything," she said again. Then, softer, "I know I don't say it enough, but...thank you." She smiled, but there was something about it that made his heart ache.

* * *

Derek whipped his head around sharply. One moment, he was watching the doctor turn on the TMS, the next he was in a dark warehouse.

After recovering from the initial shock, he knew exactly what was about to happen. He took off running, shouting, "Emily!" without fear for himself. He knew it wasn't real, but that didn't stop the fear from chasing bile up his throat.

He dropped to his knees beside her barely conscious form, reaching for her hands. "Emily... Emily, no!" He'd seen it before, but that did nothing to stop the panic that engulfed him at the sight of the stake sticking out of her abdomen, the knowledge that it would be fatal.

He looked up from the gore of her stomach to shout for medics that weren't coming because none of this was real and then he saw _her_.

She looked exactly as before, all soft childlike beauty, every bit her mother – the only thing that was different was his understanding.

"Rosie..." he whispered, hardly daring to believe it was really her. She seemed to start at the sound of her name, taking a timid step back. "No, no, no," he urged softly. "It's okay – please, don't go."

"Derek?" Emily croaked, unaware of her daughter standing inches away.

"I'm here, baby, I'm right here," he reassured, squeezing her frail hands tighter. "You're going to be alright. Stay with me, baby. Come on, stay with me."

"Let me go," she begged.

"Don't let go!" Rosie urged, more insistent, more desperate.

"I'm not letting you go!" he echoed. "Look over there, Em, look at our little girl. She's right here with us and she says it isn't your time. So, stay with me!"

The little girl started backing up, as if to leave, and Derek was filled with heavy sadness. "Don't go, Rosie! Please, just stay a little longer."

She paused and there was hesitation in her rigid posture, but she didn't vanish like before.

"Yes, there you go, girl. Your mom and I love you _so_ much and we miss you everyday. Don't we, Em?" Emily didn't respond, but this wasn't real, _she_ wasn't real – the only thing that was real was him and he needed to say everything to his baby girl in case this was the only chance he had.

"We wanted you _so_ much, Angel. You were so wanted and so loved – you were the best thing to ever happen to us. Never ever forget that, okay? You were loved. You _are_ loved."

Emily coughed up a little bubble of blood, then, breaking the spell between father and daughter. The child startled and, as if only just remembering where she was, disappeared.

"Rosie, wait!" Derek called after her. "Rosie!"

"D-Derek?" Emily stammered.

"Yeah, Princess?" he asked, sweeping her hair off her face.

"I..." she started to say, but before she could finish, he was pulled back sharply, yanked through realities and back into his own.


	17. Chapter 17

"To Derek," Rossi said, raising his glass – full of water, as it was only noon. "May he rejoin the land of the living. Salud, chindon." He tipped his glass back to drink heartily.

The others around the table raised their glasses in a toast to Derek's life. The team had just gotten back from their latest case and had all congregated together to celebrate Derek, hopefully, waking up. "To Derek," they chorused.

"To Derek," Emily said softly, hand trembling slightly as she brought her glass to her lips.

"So, what are they doing to wake up him?" Ashley asked. She was on loan from Andi Swann's team while Derek was indisposed.

"It's actually a very interesting process," Reid said excitedly, going into scientific explanation mode, causing several of the others to roll their eyes. "Typically used with Parkinson's patients, Deep Brain Stimulation is used to deliver electrical stimulation to targeted areas of the brain, blocking abnormal nerve signals. By stimulating parts of the thalamus, they've found that certain patients have been aroused to the point of being unable to sleep. Theoretically, with a coma patient, the same procedure can be used to induce waking."

"Reid..." Garcia said, holding up a hand to stop him. "You're not helping. No matter how many big science-y words you use, they're still drilling into Derek's brain." She gestured wildly with her fork, stabbing at the air to emphasize her point.

"Don't worry, it's totally safe. The current they use is so small and while the FDA hasn't approved it for use in patients other than Parkinson's, it has passed their rigorous..."

"Still scary!" Garcia insisted, shushing him.

Emily was staring off into space, strangely quiet. JJ rested a gentle hand on hers, disturbing her from her reverie. Emily startled as if she'd only just remembered she was there. She attempted a forced smile that looked more painful than reassuring.

"Are you alright?" JJ asked, voice low to keep from being overheard by the others, though they'd undoubtedly also noticed her odd behaviour.

She nodded, a little too insistently. "Fine. I'm fine."

"Are you sure?" JJ persisted. "You don't look fine. No one would blame you if you aren't. It can't be easy on you, going through all this alone."

"I'm _fine_ ," she repeated, emphasizing the word. She folded her hands under the table to hide their shaking. "I'm just a little anxious. If this doesn't work...there's nothing else to try. This is our final shot." Then, almost in a whisper, "I don't know what I'll do if he doesn't wake up...I need him."

JJ squeezed her hand under the table. "He's going to wake up," she assured her with a small hopeful smile. They both knew she couldn't promise that, but they both pretended they believed it anyway.

"I sure could use a drink, though," she said, only half-joking, then laughed a little hysterically.

Several pairs of eyes met, mirroring each others' worried expressions. Hotch pursed his lips, but shook his head slowly. No one said anything. It wasn't the time or place.

Oblivious to their mutual concern, Emily stood up in a daze.

"Where are you going?" Reid asked.

"Back to the hotel." This did nothing to ease anyone's worry – she had barely left the hospital in all the time she'd been there, not to eat, not to sleep, not to change her clothes... "I'm just going to go take a shower and clean up," she said, as if reading their minds. "I don't want Derek to wake up to me looking like a wreck." She gave that hysterical high-pitched laugh again.

"But the surgery..." Garcia started to protest.

"I'll be back before the surgery starts," she promised. She attempted that smile again that absolutely no one believed.

* * *

Message One: Penelope Garcia, 1:15PM

"Emily? It's me. Just checking that you didn't fall asleep. They've moved up the surgery to two hours from now. Make sure you get here in time."

Message Two: Penelope Garcia, 2:00PM

"Hey, Em. Me again. Wake up. They're prepping him for surgery. You should be here."

Message Three: Penelope Garcia, 3:20PM

"Emily, answer your phone! They've just started surgery. He could wake up at any moment – you need to be here. You promised."

Message Four: Penelope Garcia, 3:55PM

"Emily Elizabeth Prentiss! Are you ignoring me? You promised to be here for my Chocolate Adonis when he wakes up and you are officially not allowed to break that promise!"

Message Five: Jennifer Jareau, 4:05PM

"Hey, Em. It's JJ. Garcia said she's called you a few times and you haven't answered. She's worried you're angry with her. Call me back to let me know everything's okay."

Message Six: Penelope Garcia, 4:30PM

"Emily, you're starting to scare me now... This isn't like you. Maybe you're afraid he isn't going to wake up and want to save yourself the pain and disappointment, but he needs you to have faith. He needs you to be here. Please, just call me back so I know you're okay."

Message Seven: Spencer Reid, 4:40PM

"The surgery is going well. They haven't been able to induce arousal yet, but they're upping the current and they're starting to see some unusual brain signals. You should really be here."

Message Eight: Penelope Garcia, 4:45PM

"Okay, Emily, I'm freaking out now! Where are you? If you don't call me back this instant, I am tracking your phone and credit card and GPS and computer until I find you!"

Message Nine: Jennifer Jareau, 5:23PM

"Garcia is totally losing her mind right now, Emily. She's serious about tracking you down. I don't know what's going on with you right now, but you need to stop it. You're scaring us. Just call someone. Anyone. Please."

Message Ten: Penelope Garcia 5:28PM

"Emily? I don't know what's going on, I can't find a trace of you, so you must be at the hotel. I'm hoping you're just sleeping. I'm coming over."


	18. Chapter 18

First came the sound of ocean waves crashing and he knew then it wasn't a bad memory. He let out a heavy breath, feeling the salt air bite at his lungs. Waves lapped gently at his bare feet and still he kept his eyes tightly closed, letting the feeling of the sun beating down on him chase the fear out of his body.

He was surprised when he felt a tiny hand slip into his own. He opened his eyes for the first time and looked down to find two familiar amber eyes staring up at him. "Don't let go, Daddy," she said softly, shyly. The gentle breeze whipped at her lavender dress, already sandy at the hem.

"Never," he promised. Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, as if they'd done it hundreds of times before, they ran into the oncoming waves.

The child squealed with glee as the salty spray hit them and Derek could only laugh at her unfettered childlike joy. And in that moment, it was so easy to imagine a life where _this_ – father-daughter trips to the coast on weekends, just the two of them and the waves crashing relentlessly onwards – was a reality.

* * *

"Is there a God?" Rosie asked, holding his hand tightly and swinging their arms.

"I don't know," he replied honestly, staring off into the sun setting over the water in a splash of orange-red.

"Just tell me," she said, rolling her eyes dramatically.

"I would if I could, but I don't know and neither does anyone else," he insisted, looking down into her eyes.

"Grandma Fran knows," she said, "I hear her talking to God."

"No, she has a faith," Derek replied. "And that's a great thing to have, but faith is about what you think and feel, not what you know."

"What about Jesus?" Rosie persisted, attempting to climb him like a tree.

"Love that guy. Do what he says."

"But is he God?"

"I don't know," he said with a shrug, dislodging Rosie from her attempt to climb him. He lifted her up to sit on his shoulders. "I have an opinion, but that's my opinion and I could be wrong, so why would I screw up yours? Use your head, but don't be afraid to believe in things either." He reached up to tickle her ribs. "I'll tell you what though...one way or another, we all end up back together in the end. That's what you're asking, right?"

There was a long pause and he thought maybe she was mad at him. Then, with a sigh, she rested her chin on his head and said, "Yep." She popped the P sound deliberately.

"Find something else to worry about, will you?" Even as he said it, his thoughts drifted back to Emily, waiting for him on another plane. Maybe this was it – the end, _his_ end – and what if what she saw when she'd coded was the only end waiting for her when she died?

He used his toe to draw a heart in the sand and he could feel Rosie's attention on his movements. "That's for her, isn't it?" she asked.

"Who?" he asked, even though he already knew.

"Mommy."

He was about to reply when he noticed the figure approaching. "Dad?" he said cautiously, curiously, hardly daring to believe it was really him, that any of this was real. He carefully lifted Rosie down from his shoulders and set her in the sand, taking several wary steps forwards.

"Looks like you've been in quite an accident," his father said, pointing to his forehead. "You're bleeding."

Derek frowned, reaching up to dab at the blood on his forehead that he was sure hadn't been there a moment before. "I didn't do anything wrong," he said without knowing why he felt the sudden need to defend himself.

"Of course not," his father said, holding up his hands in supplication. "I just need to ask you a few questions. Do you have any...?" he asked, trailing off.

Derek watched his eyes dart towards Rosie. "Children?" he asked, glancing back at the girl. "No. Not anymore."

"Good," his father said cryptically. "Because what's out there..." He gestured into the growing darkness down the beach that somehow, Derek knew meant life, living. "Let me tell you..." He shook his head, but didn't continue.

Derek whipped his head around, a far off voice on the wind. "Did you hear that?"

His father shook his head. "You're better off coming with me."

"Emily?" Derek shouted, certain this time he'd heard her voice calling to him.

"Nope. You're just tired, Derek," his father insisted.

"I am," he admitted. He was _so_ tired.

"I know. It's been a long road with no turning back. Come on..." He reached a hand towards his son.

"Where are going, Dad?" he asked, stepping forwards to take the hand.

"Home, son. It's time to go home."

Then, again, the voice calling his name. "That's Emily..."

"You come with me, its the best thing," his father persisted, reaching again, more earnestly. "Come on."

Derek shook his head. "I have to go, Dad."

"Derek..."

"I have to go. I have to." He turned towards the voice calling for him, calling him back to life, when he again felt the tiny hands in his own, this time pulling him back with all the strength in her little body.

"No, Daddy!" she cried, fat tears already streaming down her chubby cheeks.

He knelt down in front of her, taking her face in his hands and wiping away the tears with his thumbs. "I'm so sorry, baby girl, but I have to go... It's not my time. Your Mommy is waiting for me."

"But..." she said, bottom lip wobbling pitifully. "I don't want you to go. I want you to stay here and play with me..."

"I know, Angel, I know. I want that too, but I'll be back before you know it and then we can play until the end of time, okay?"

She sniffled and flung her arms around him, as tightly as she could. "You promised you wouldn't let go..." she whispered.

His heart nearly broke in two, then, and he almost promised he'd stay if she'd only stop crying. But he couldn't stay. He knew that. "You have to let me go," he said, just as softly. He carefully extracted himself from her grip on him, feeling like the worst father in the world, wishing there were something, anything he could possibly do for her.

He set her gently in the sand, smoothing away the hair plastered to her face with tears. He kissed the top of her head gently. He didn't say anything because there was nothing left to say.

He turned and, with one last glance behind him at his forlorn daughter, he took off running into the growing darkness down the beach.


	19. Chapter 19

Derek sat in his wheelchair with reluctant cooperation as Reid wheeled him towards physiotherapy. He wanted to ask why Emily couldn't take him, but he thought that might be considered rude, so he didn't voice his objections.

"Do people usually remember being in a coma?" he asked the young genius.

He thought about it for a brief moment. "Some do," he said. "Why?"

"I had very vivid-," he paused, searching for the word that wouldn't make him seem crazy, "-hallucinations that I was out of my body."

Reid again paused, deep in thought. "Were these hallucinations visual or auditory?"

"Both."

"In a coma, a person basically loses contact with their body's sensory input, so they feel sensations as though they're external to their body, but they keep the illusion that they have a body. It's very similar to the early stages of sleep," Reid explained, his voice getting high and excited.

"So, I was dreaming?" Derek asked when he paused to take a breath, interrupting before he could continue his explanation.

"Yes. And because you didn't wake up, your dreams became a reality. It's really quite common." He seemed to sense then that Derek wasn't saying everything. "Do you believe what you experienced was real?" he asked.

"No, of course not," he rushed to supply before Reid could jump to conclusions.

"You're perfectly normal," Reid assured him.

He would have loved to believe that.

Then, Reid seemed to work up the courage to say the thing he'd clearly been wanting to say, but couldn't get the words out. "I'm so sorry about...everything that happened. You seem to be taking it really well..."

Assuming he meant the accident, the coma, Derek waved away his concern. "It was nobody's fault. All that matters is that I'm here now."

"No, I meant..." he started to say.

But they had arrived at the physiotherapy wing and Derek had already stopped listening.

* * *

"You were like a newborn giraffe," Emily said, laughing nearly uncontrollably as she described his attempt at walking again.

"I was not that bad," he said, pouting dramatically.

"Worse, actually," she insisted, giving him that smile he'd first fallen in love with.

It was hard not to agree with her with that smile lighting up her face. "It was my first time walking again after months in a coma, cut me some slack," he argued.

She held her hands up in surrender. "You're right. You were the picture of grace. You were practically a ballerina."

He glared at her, trying his best to look unamused and failing. "Fuck you," he said, teasing. She was reduced to laughter again, clutching a stitch in her side.

"Hey," JJ said brightly, walking up to the table.

Her approach had gone unnoticed as he'd been too busy staring at Emily's glowing face; he'd almost forgotten what it was like to see her happy. "Hey, JJ," he greeted, but not without a note of disappointment at their moment having been interrupted.

"Hey, Jayje," Emily echoed his greeting.

"It's good to see you out and about." JJ slid into the seat opposite him. "Who were you talking to?"

He gave her a look that clearly said he thought she'd lost it. "Emily, obviously." He nodded in her direction, not understanding the look JJ was giving him.

"Derek…" she whispered, looking at him sadly and with a little confusion. "Didn't they tell you?"

"Tell me what?" He was confused and more than a little annoyed.

JJ sunk her teeth into her bottom lip, appearing to debate saying something. "I don't know how to say this…" she said slowly, "Emily's dead."

"That's not funny, JJ!" he snapped, "She's right…" He turned to where she'd been sitting beside him, carrying on a conversation, only to find her chair empty.

"I'm sorry, I thought you knew." She reached over to rest her hand on top of his.

He slapped her hand away. "You're lying!"

"They were going to tell you when you woke up," she said calmly. "They found her passed out in her hotel room; apparently she drank herself to death. The cirrhosis of her liver suggests it was probably a long time coming."

"Stop it!" he shouted, flinging an arm out and knocking her coffee off the table before wheeling off in anger.

* * *

Derek pulled himself up out of his wheelchair using the autopsy table as leverage. "Why?" he demanded.

Emily stood on the opposite side of the stainless-steel table, staring down at the cold pale body that had once been her, seemingly mesmerized. "I look so calm," she said quietly, as if she hadn't heard him. She cocked her head to the side. "Did I always look like that?"

"Why?" he repeated angrily. "You told me you were dealing with it! You told me you were getting help! You _swore_ it!"

"I was," she said with a shrug, "It didn't work."

"Didn't _work_?" he repeated incredulously. "Did you even try? Or did you just like being a drunk?" He didn't mean it, didn't mean any of it, but he was so angry he couldn't see straight and the words just came barrelling out. "Instead of dealing with your grief like an adult, you just let it consume you and drag you to your death. And then, instead of letting me find peace, you had to go and ruin my life too!"

"I started drinking long before I ever had a dead baby inside me," she said solemnly, almost apropos of nothing.

"Emily!" he shouted, slamming his fists down on the autopsy table. "You're dead! Don't you care at all!?"

"Seems like it's a little late to care," she said blithely.

"How long?" he bit out, voice quaking with the effort it took to keep it level.

"I don't know," she shrugged, combing her fingers through the corpse's hair tenderly, like one would a sleeping child. "I was twelve, I think, when I started drinking."

"No," he said through gritted teeth, "How long have you been dead? How long have you been pretending, just so I'd wake up!?"

"I can go…" she offered, voice so small as to barely be there at all.


	20. Chapter 20

**AN: There is the potential for two more fics in this series. Both will be prequels. Let me know if you're interested in reading more! I have no idea when they'll be ready, though.**

* * *

Derek sat in his wheelchair in front of the bathroom mirror, tying the knot in his tie. He was deliberately ignoring the presence hovering over his shoulder, watching his every move, much as she'd done for the past week, in spite of his continued denial of her existence.

"You look good," she said softly, sensing his anger and hoping a small joke would diffuse it. "Very dashing."

"Don't," he said through gritted teeth, still deliberately refusing to meet her eyes.

She held up her hands in surrender and stood back as he wheeled angrily out of the bathroom.

He wasn't finished, though. "Do you realize this is the second time I've had to bury you!?"

"Neither one was my choice," Emily said, quiet, small.

That was very clearly the wrong thing to say. "You don't think thirty years of poisoning yourself had a little something to do with it!?" he growled.

"Derek..." She wanted to apologize, to say something, anything, to make this better for him. She wasn't sure those words existed.

"No! It's my turn to speak – you had your chance. You _knew_ what you were doing. You _knew_ you were killing yourself. How dare you bring me back to life for _this_!" He gestured widely around him – at her, at him, at his wheelchair...the entirety of what he'd woken into. "I was with our daughter, I was happy. For the first time since you left, I was _happy_! My dad came to take me to the other side and I said no because of you. You told me you loved me, you wanted me to wake up so we could work on things, and when I woke up, you were gone!"

"It wasn't your time," she insisted.

"My time? My _time_!?" he repeated incredulously. "Who are you to judge whether it was my time or not?"

"You came back..."

"I came back because of you. Because I thought you were there waiting for me!" he shouted.

"And here I am," she said, shrugging helplessly.

" _This_ ," he said, indicating between the two of them, "Isn't real."

"It's real if you keep talking to me..."

"You're dead, Emily! Don't you get that? And I can't keep talking to a dead woman. They already have me under psych eval."

"So, what? You're just going to ignore me and hope I go away?"

"This is your own fault," he pointed out, not kindly. "You did this to yourself and if you can't move on, that's your problem, not mine!"

"You have to help me!" he pleaded.

"I can't do this," he said, shaking his head. He just sounded tired now. "I can't. I have to go." He wheeled out of the room, leaving her standing there, speechless.

"Derek!" she called after him. "Derek, please! I need you – I need your help! I can't leave! I want to see our daughter..." she said sadly.

But he was already gone.


End file.
